


The warmth you give

by captainhurricane



Series: Kinktober 2016 [8]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Wax Play, don't do this at home until you take necessary precautions okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Dreamers dream and magicians have magical hands. Candles are involved when a certain pair of boyfriends spend a gentle moment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> kinktober day 16: wax play. why say something briefly when you can write 3093044390 words.

To most people, Ronan Lynch is a mystery. And will remain so because that is the way he prefers it. To others, he is a friend, the protector, keeper of secrets of his own and all that is otherwordly. To Adam, however, Ronan isn't something to be compressed into a stereotype, a neatly labelled box. To Adam, Ronan just is. Being away from each other is a challenge but also a much needed one: both can have time to breathe, to carve their own space into a world no longer on the brink of collapse.

 

Sometimes they Skype. Sometimes they text. Sometimes Ronan sends photos of Opal sleeping next to another one of his goats and cows. Sometimes Adam sends him letters, tells him of his days at the college, long lectures and long days fuelled by coffee. 

 

On the rare occasion that Ronan feels like it, he calls Adam, listens to Adam softly tell him of his day, ask after him, laugh when all he gets are short, clipped answers.  _I miss you,_ Adam says.  _But we're okay._ Ronan merely says goodbye. 

 

The vacation-days come and go, sometimes Ronan takes his BMW, sometimes a motorcycle and makes his way to Adam's college. He is an obvious outsider there: all leather and piercing eyes and the crow cawing on his shoulder. But Adam's eyes are soft when they land on him, his kisses softer when they land on his mouth. Ronan has always liked having a reputation after all and he laughs, all blinding white teeth and snarky amusement when Adam tells him they both have one at Adam's school. They get themselves off in Adam's bed, make promises into each other's skin and know there is no hurry anymore. The past is silent, the present is calm and the future is clearer than before. 

 

The vacation-days come and go and one particular one finds Adam and Ronan at the Barns, laying horizontal, grinding on the couch, lost in the magic of the night around them. The night is quiet, the whispering dreams dead and at peace for once. Adam slips a finger into Ronan's mouth and gasps when Ronan sucks it deep, Ronan's tongue wicked as it curls around it. 

“God, I've missed you,” Adam murmurs against his jaw, slips his finger out. 

“Yeah,” Ronan says back, voice rough. He grabs Adam's hand again, brings it to his mouth. Adam has to look, has to see what it looks like and oh, oh- his calloused thumb rubs against Ronan's lower lip, slips with ease into Ronan's mouth. Ronan's eyes are open just a crack, the smirk ready to break out at a moment's notice. 

 

“You look so good, darling,” Adam murmurs, face hot, groin throbbing as he grinds against the boy spread out under him. The only thing throwing light on their faces are the candles set around the living room. They're dream-things, of course they are, the light of them bright and oddly translucent, a glimmer around them that reminds Adam of their quest, now already come and gone.

 

“Save the compliments, Parrish,” Ronan groans once his mouth is free. His cheeks have gone darker though, his face sharper, harder to look with the shadows on it. Adam has to smile, has to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until Ronan is pushing against him, the bulge in his briefs hard. 

 

“Why save them when you like them, Lynch,” Adam murmurs against Ronan's jaw, rubs his palms across Ronan's bare chest. They had both shed their shirts ages ago, both of their trousers somewhere along the floor. Ronan had been halfway into tugging off Adam's boxers but Adam had stopped him, had had to kiss that expectant, needy expression just to hear the kind of gasps Ronan can make. 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan says, digging his fingers into Adam's hair. The fuck off lingers on Ronan's lips, Adam can taste it but it doesn't come. He reaches for his own groin, palms himself through the fabric. 

“Ah, can you- could you turn around? I want to try the candles,” Adam murmurs, voice husky. 

 

It hadn't been easy conversation to be had especially when they had been so far away from each other but Ronan had agreed, had sent a photo of those glimmering candles, a drop of waz on his palm.  _You're a kinky shit, Parrish,_ had been the accompanying caption. 

 

Adam still hadn't admitted he might have jerked off after that. 

 

Now he's climbing off the couch to gather the needed supplies closer. He turns his back to Ronan because of it, breathing hard. The first candle in his hand is a sharp, electric blue. It's warm on his hand, the wax soft and smooth but not burning. 

“Ronan, these are-” he turns, finds Ronan kicking off his briefs, settled on his stomach on the large couch. His eyes are nearly pitch-black as they squint in Adam's direction. Adam follows the line of his body rather helplessly, that tattoo covering his back from his neck all the way to his hips. 

 

“Come on, Adam,” Ronan murmurs, voice as low as it always gets when he's needy. Adam's throat is very dry and he nods, swallows hard and comes close, straddles Ronan's thighs carefully. 

“Should maybe strip yourself too,” Ronan says, voice now muffled as he lowers his face into his arms. 

“Later. This is for you,” Adam says. “Tell me instantly if it hurts.” 

“It won't,” Ronan mutters but doesn't say anymore. What other people had considered pain, Ronan Lynch might have considered fun even though he hadn't reached the kind of self-destruction as his fellow dream thief- no, Ronan had never been a thief like Kavinsky, Ronan had been a king. Is a king. Adam knows his blush has spread, can feel how hot his skin as he leans over Ronan to kiss the tattoo, the screaming face of raven, the tips of its wings spread over Ronan's shoulders. Ronan hums, shifts underneath him. 

 

“Ronan,” Adam murmurs and dips the first candle, watches as the thin drip-drip of blazing blue wax becomes a river that ends up between Ronan's shoulder blades. Ronan lets out a hiss, his muscles tensing for a second but he pushes himself against Adam, doesn't move away to escape. Adam strokes the knobs of Ronan's spine, leans down to another spot on the tattoo, to slide his tongue on it like he had dreamed and had often done. Ronan takes a deep breath. 

 

“I'm not fragile, Adam,” he murmurs. 

“I know,” Adam says and dips the candle again, watches the flame flicker, the river of wax spread over Ronan's shoulders. Ronan twitches, his hands curling into fists. 

“If you squirm so much, I'm gonna get hard,” Adam murmurs, rather uselessly at this point as he kisses the top of Ronan's head, the short hairs tickling his lips. 

“You've been hard for the past fifteen minutes, horndog,” Ronan hums under him, lets out another pleased groan when Adam drips more wax on him, lets it make a slice across Ronan's upperback, cutting the tattoo in half.

 

“I just want you so much,” Adam murmurs, knows Ronan can hear the smile in his voice. Adam rolls his hips, rubs his clothed bulge against his boyfriend's bare ass. Drips another river of blue wax on Ronan's back, lets it flow down slower, slower until Ronan moans: cracked, shaky. He's fisting the sheet- unflammable, naturally, _who do you think I am, Parrish? -_ under him and has started to breathe harder. Adam licks a sweatdrop from his neck, kisses the top of his head, kisses the parts unblemished by the wax. 

 

“How does it feel?” Adam pours more wax, makes it look like a wave, like an oddly disjointed part of Ronan's tattoo. 

“Fuck,” Ronan groans, spreads his thighs. “Push yourself closer to me, do it.” Adam does it, tugs his knees under Ronan's thighs, has to bite back a groan when he feels Ronan dripping. Adam traces the line of wax, finds it warm, pulsing with dream-life. 

 

“Do you want me to continue with another?” Adam asks, reaches with some difficulty for the coffee table to place the blue candle on it. Rubs his palms over Ronan's ass, over his hips, over his sides. Leans down over him to thrust lazily against him, to slide his fingers over Ronan's parted lips.

 

“Y-yeah, take a fucking picture,” Ronan murmurs, bites the tip of his finger but accepts another easily. Adam feels the curl of his smirk as he straightens once more to reach for another candle.

“Maybe I'll send one to our friends out there in the world,” Adam ponders and cuts off Ronan's swear by dripping a puddle of red wax over the tattooed raven's opened beak. It makes the raven look more gruesome, more alive. Adam pushes his thumb into the puddle, finds it hot but not scalding, spreads it with the same thumb. Ronan rubs himself against him, now constantly shifting, his muscles tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing. 

“I'll kick your ass,” Ronan says, breathless and shaky. “How's it look?” 

 

Adam sighs, pours as much blue wax as he can in elegant, wavy lines over Ronan's back, listens and feels Ronan's reactions. 

“Suits you, darlin',” Adam purrs, thrusts against his partner. “I'm ruining your tattoo.” Adam ponders for a moment if he should turn Ronan around, he wants to be looking at Ronan's face when he comes, wants the love and desire he feels fill him with the knowledge that Ronan is his- as much as Adam is Ronan's.

“Okay,” Ronan breathes, his breath hot and filled with barely audible whimpers when Adam leans over him again to kiss his neck, kiss his shoulders, lick sweat from his spine. The red wax looks like blood when Adam pours it on Ronan's lower back, gently rubs some over Ronan's asscheeks, takes that as an excuse to squeeze both. Ronan swears. 

“Do you want to come?” Adam asks, paints river after river of colour on Ronan's back, feels every twitch, hears every whimper. 

“Not yet,” Ronan murmurs, although he has spread his legs more to better accommodate Adam, is panting and leaking beyond measure. Adam gets his hand on his cock, pumps it slowly as he uses Ronan as his canvas, heart racing as the colours fill the sharp, black lines of Ronan's tattoo. Ronan Lynch is a beautiful creature and like this, it's like looking at something their sleepy little town dreamed of by itself. Like this, Adam loves him even more. 

 

He whispers it into Ronan's ear, makes him come with Adam's name on his lips. 

 

 


End file.
